


Blood to Blood

by cerozer0



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Not Really Plot Heavy, Very vague relationship stuff, Vignette, let's find out kings, what happens during the fights lupin leaves behind to chase the big bad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerozer0/pseuds/cerozer0
Summary: Jigen Daisuke, Ishikawa Goemon, and Mine Fujiko are once again holding off hordes of baddies while Lupin III is reaching the climax of their heist. Little do they know, things are about to go off-script."Before either of them could act, a combat pistol barrel flashed from the dark and Fujiko fell. Goemon’s pace faltered, only for a moment. Jigen could see his chin dip to the heap of red hair that was their friend, their enemy, their Fujiko. Goemon’s shoulders set. Zantetsuken snarled against the concrete, throwing up sparks that brightened the room and revealed whoever was left alive. Then darkness fell again and in that darkness Jigen and Goemon moved, stalking out the stragglers, moved by rage alone."
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII & Jigen Daisuke & Arsène Lupin III & Mine Fujiko, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Blood to Blood

The final showdown was, currently, a shitshow of firearms and tossed daggers and flashes of lightning across a factory floor. The mob boss Lupin had been tailing proved to be more of an issue than any of his gang could have expected – and so he was off dealing with that monster of a villain while Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko stood back to back in the center of an all our brawl. This was the usual formula. Jigen could hardly complain nowadays; he was so used to handling hordes of baddies that it felt like second nature. Soon enough, the factory would be filled with corpses and they could ascend the steel steps to aid Lupin at the last moment, like always. It was in the script, so to say. It was fate.

Lightning flashed, shedding light across the dark factory floor. In that moment of clarity, Goemon leaped over Jigen and Fujiko, slicing through a spray of Uzzi bullets with ease. Jigen swung his Magnum around and fanned the hammer, dealing three consecutive headshots before the knockback sent the last bullet wide. A window shattered, beckoning in the rain and wind of the storm outside. In the next flash of lightning, Jigen saw Fujiko dive around a man with a knife and dig her elbow straight into his solar plexus. Another body fell as she swung her leg out, slicing the person’s throat with her hell. They fell to her feet in a heap. Before Jigen could offer her a snide remark about fighting like a girl, another wave of bullets and war cries reared down upon them. He lost sight of Fujiko in the next moment of darkness.

Jigen and Goemon were of one mind in battles. Foxhole buddies, he liked to call them, always aware of each other’s plans, always ready to move in tandem. He was right at the samurai’s heels as Goemon carved a line towards the piles of wooden boxes and defunct metal machinery. Men fell around them, wet and heavy, but Jigen could hardly hear their skulls smack the concrete over the barrage of gunfire. Fujiko was a few paces behind them, armed with a machine gun she must have procured from a corpse. She kept their backsides clear, gunning down anyone willing to get too close. Her lingering pace was disconcerting.

“Fujiko, move your ass!” Jigen called as he dove behind a box. He reloaded and spun the barrel before taking out three other faceless goons. Fujiko threw a look over her shoulder and Jigen’s stomach swooped out below him. A nasty cut marred her right cheek, spilling blood down her chin. A knife punctured her left thigh, cutting through the red motorcycle suit and revealing a swath of pale, bruised skin. He always complained that her skin-tight outfits might not be enough armor for a firefight – now Jigen was horrified to know he was right. Fujiko reared her head back around and laid out another group of men. When she tried to back peddle towards them, her left leg lagged, slowing her pace. 

“Shit,” Jigen heard Fujiko gasp. A shadow from the left beckoned her attention. Red hot bullet pooled at her feet, sizzling in her blood and sweat. Somewhere in the darkness of the factory’s corners, a man death rattled. The noise, the movement, the shadows were all enough to ruin Fujiko’s perception. Jigen lurched forward, trying to tear his eyes from the gore staining Fujiko’s body as another shadow appeared to her right.

“Fujiko!” Goemon cried to his left, shocking Jigen out of his stupor. He sped forward, Zantetsuken flashing in the storm light. Before either of them could act, a combat pistol barrel flashed from the dark and Fujiko fell. Goemon’s pace faltered, only for a moment. Jigen could see his chin dip to the heap of red hair that was their friend, their enemy, their  _ Fujiko _ . Goemon’s shoulders set. Zantetsuken snarled against the concrete, throwing up sparks that brightened the room and revealed whoever was left alive. Then darkness fell again and in that darkness Jigen and Goemon moved, stalking out the stragglers, moved by rage alone.

Jigen fired blind in more ways than one. He could hardly think to aim. His finger pressed down hard on the trigger of his Magnum, his palm sliding over the hammer until he was out of his six shots. He reloaded mechanically and fired off again, killing the men who thought it right to kill people Jigen deemed important. In each flash of his gunfire, he could see Goemon, blood-soaked and heaving, beheading those attempting to run from the massacre. They were running low on mercy tonight.

Soon, Jigen realized his constant gunfire was unreturned. Goemon’s swishing had also grown silent, and in the pitch blackness of the factory, Jigen tried to feel out any remaining gasps of air, any faceless individual who had yet to pay for the bloodshed by their ally. No such noise met his ears. Instead, he heard an utterly gutwrenching gasp from the center of the factory where Fujiko lay. Another flash of lighting and Jigen saw Goemon rushing towards her, ripping his bandage bindings from his torso.

“Fujiko, shit,” Jigen said as he burst from his cover and slid to her side. His eyes adjusted to her shuddering form curled tight in on herself. “Fujiko, lay on your back, idiot. Where’d he hit you? Shit, I thought you were – ”

“Jigen,” Goemon cut him off with a low snap. His black hair veiled his expression, but Jigen was sure Goemon was gnawing his lower lip bloody. Fujiko fought their hands for as long as she was able. Strength was leaving her in waves, like the blood pooling at their knees at her back, and soon she let them turn her over. Her arms fell away, loose and weak. Jigen dug into his pocket until he managed to locate a small scope flashlight buried beneath cigarette cartons and spare bullets. He placed it on the ground beside them, facing Fujiko’s side, to shed some light across her shrinking form.

“This is the only time you two are getting me on my back,” Fujiko ground out through a twisted grin. Even with all the cuts and bruises and open wounds clear on her form, she was trying to appear above it all. Jigen couldn’t remember the last time he ever saw her really cry. Even when she was tying Lupin up with words and cleavage and twisted plans, she hardly let shadows of depression or fear paint across her pretty face. Maybe there was more to Fujiko than betrayal. Maybe Jigen was just pitying her. “Jigen, Goemon – ”

“You should conserve your strength, Fujiko,” Goemon mumbled, wrapping his bindings around her waist. Jigen had been so focused on her face to even glance at the bullet hole that bubbled on her lower abdomen. He stared at the wound now as it was smothered by white bandages. 

“You’re lucky that man was a lousy shot,” Jigen said, casting his gaze further down to the knife in her thigh. It had burrowed deeper from her writhing. He cast off his suit coat and pulled his shirt free from his pants. He tore cotton strips free and laid them across his knee. “Grit your teeth, Fujiko,” he warned before grabbing the handle and pulling the blade out. Fujiko barely made a peep. Her chest rose and fell quicker, but she was utterly silent. Holding back. Jigen made a shoddy tourniquet with a few shirt strips while Goemon easily shifted his attention from her torso to her leg, tying another bandage around the new free-bleeding gash.

“Tell it to me straight, boys,” Fujiko mumbles, staring up at the void of the factory ceiling, “how bad’s my face?”

“It will heal, Fujiko. Everything will heal,” Goemon said. Then, with gentleness he reserved for only the kindest of creatures, he stroked Fujiko’s cheek. The blood smeared away after his fingers, revealing that the cut was small and shallow. Lucky Fujiko.

“Lupin’s going to be pissed we let you get hurt, you know,” Jigen said. The pounding, burning rage in his chest was beginning to settle. The hissing rain outside beckoned forward a wave of calm and clarity. Jigen settled back off his legs and pulled a crushed cigarette from his pocket, lighting the cherry and taking a long pull of silky smoke. Goemon crossed his legs and straightened his back, assuming the form of a watchful guardian. 

“Well, he’ll at least be happy to know I won’t be betraying you guys anytime soon with this bum leg of mine,” Fujiko groaned, “Jigen, gimme a smoke.”

“Get your own, Fujicakes,” Jigen muttered, warmer than he intended. Still, he plucked the cigarette from his own lips and placed it between her’s, letting her take a pull. She smiled, blowing smoke circles up to the blackness above them. Without really thinking about it he pushed strands of Fujiko’s hair from her face. Her smile widened and softened, and for once she didn’t stare at him with that venomous beauty Fujiko was known for. For once she smiled like she was one of them, thankful and warm and utterly alive. Jigen smirked and hid it beneath his hat. Over his shoulder, he saw Goemon lay his hand on Fujiko’s shoulder and squeeze, ensuring to himself that she was tangible. His eyes drifted shut, content. 

Soon, Lupin would parade down from the sky or from an underground lair or from the front door, waving his hands with wild abandon. He may have the treasure or he may not, but regardless he would be alive and well and happy to see them alive too. Then, soon after him, Zenigata would be on their tails, crying out for them to stop. Soon, they would be over the horizon, ready for another heist. That was their fate. For right now, though, they would lay among the inky battlefield, safe within their orb of light, holding each other close, waiting for the story to catch up to them.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write about the friendship and love goemon jigen and fujiko really do hold for each other no matter what the anime writers want us to believe. these three would die for each other okay!!! might do more vignettes in the future, look out for them!


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